Unexpected
by Child of the Muse
Summary: Written For the Quidditch Fanfiction Competition It's HP/LV but from a certain death eaters point of view. p.s. This is not the whole chapter and much of it had to be edited to make the 3,300 word limit. As it was, I had to edit it heavily to get it down to 3,495 and than heavily edit it again when I realized I had too many words STILL. :D Enjoy my lovely shippers!


**A/N: Minus the two authors notes, this story is 3,274 words. This was written for the Quidditch Fanfiction Competition and it's also a little plot bunny for a story I'm writing. I thought it would be fun. :p Our Character is Snape and we had to use the word brooding. But I'm in love with HP/LV so I thought, why not include all of it? LOL!**

**Originally when writing this, the actual fic itself was at a total of 3,600 words and i wasn't even half way done yet. So I had to complete it and than edit it for a long time to get the remains at a total of 3,495. And than I realized my limit was 3,300 instead of 3,500 so that took even more creative editing. It still reads like a normal story but I was busting my hide trying to make it T rated AND get the 3,300 words. The original chapter is so much more interesting but hey, what can you do? LOL!**

_**WARNING: THIS IS DEFINITELY AU.  
**_

**Optional prompts: ****(word) wonderful, ****(dialogue) "Hatred knows no bounds, huh.", ****(dialogue) "You don't tell me to relax!"**

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To the best of the knowledge of the outer tier and middle tier death eaters, when the dark lord called for a meeting, it was always quite spur of the moment. And when the dark mark burned, you were to follow it, arriving at your destination, at which point the mark would cease emanating the bone melting pain. Than, you and everyone else would report on your specific missions.

After which you would be entertained with the torture of someone from the dungeons. But he didn't stay nor did he participate and neither did many of the other higher level death eaters, the undeniably mad Bellatrix Lestrange being the only exception.

It was of note that, unbeknownst to the population, the dark lord himself didn't participate in torture, raids, killings, or abductions unless he had a personal agenda. Of course, he bore the countenance and played the cameo of the insane psychopathic overlord perfectly, a master actor if there ever was one. But in truth, never a more sane man could you meet. His logic was ice cold, his ambitions were high, and the road to glory not just for himself, but for all of them was cold cut and clear. That, in truth, was what made him even more terrifying than the masterful act of insanity he constructed. The mere fact that he knew everything and that everything was set in stone, was an almost inhuman characteristic in the dark lord. He always had the answer, which made him the perfect leader.

But unbeknownst to the lower tiers, there was a meeting that consisted only of the inner circle, and it was held once every month to ascertain the status of the most sacred missions of the dark lord. But instead of meeting in the throne room or the large official meeting room, they gathered in one of the more spacious meeting areas, relaxing on plush couches, partaking of offered refreshments, and they would all relax as they opened up to their lord about not only their missions, but their personal lives as well, something Severus couldn't be bothered to do.

It was here that the dark lord would shed his outer cloak, leaving it hung on a special hook at the door, perfectly content to be seen relaxed holding a brandy in one and the other running one finger across the head of his clearly sleeping anaconda python mix. But as relaxed as he was, never once did he speak of his own life. He was merely content to listen and offer advice to those who claimed need of it.

This was the reason that the inner circle death eaters believed themselves to be close to the dark lord. And he allowed them their sentiments, though Severus knew the man was close to no one. He trusted no one.

This meeting would not be any different. There was no information that led him to believe this was a meeting with a specified special purpose and he knew he would not be attending a raid, fortunately. Tonight, they weren't torturing muggles or abducting witches or wizards for information. They weren't out terrorizing the wizarding world and tonight, only the inner circle, the closest, the highest class of death eaters would be there.

He apparated to Malfoy Manor, pushing open the double doors that revealed a comfortable sitting room large enough to seat fifteen people. The dark lord, of course, was already present, his cloak already hung in the same place it always was. From what he had learned in his time as a death eater, the man was clearly a creature of habit.

One of the most sizable differences was that when the meetings here included the outer tiers, the dark lord was always the last to arrive. Most death eaters thought this was due to the fact that their lord was always busy, and indeed he was. But he always entered last to assure that all attention would be to him. Arriving late was something only the inner circle was excused of, as they were the most prestigious, the most trusted, and often in the most danger should their positions be recognized.

However, when it was just his closest inner circle about him, he relaxed more deeply and didn't seem as tense. The lazy imperial aura he wore clearly showed he was king, and all gathered revered him as such.

"Tonight, we shall be receiving a very special guest. He is the only equal to myself and you shall treat him with the same respect you show me. Any affront to his person shall be a direct affront to myself. Furthermore, he is my-"

But they never got to hear what this special person was to him, exactly. Because everyone froze as they heard shrieking coming from down the hall. And for once, it wasn't coming from Bellatrix or a prisoner, if his words were to be trusted. The voice was as fiery as it was furious. Nothing at all like a Slytherin. It held too much raw emotion, too much power. It was too obvious. But the fact that this was not a Slytherin did not surprise him as much as the fact that he _knew_ this voice…personally. And more than apparently, a few other death eaters did as well. They all looked to their lord, whose relaxed form suddenly bore all the tension of a brick wall. His face, of course, gave away very little. But that small crease in his forehead, the slight frown at the corner of his mouth, the minute narrowing of his eyes. It was clear to those who truly _saw_ him that he was, dare they think it, concerned.

"_YOU DON'T TELL ME TO RELAX! You_ didn't watch your best friend in the whole world jump from the astronomy tower and land in broken bloody mangled pieces on the grounds of Hogwarts! _You _don't have _Dumbledore_ constantly breathing down your neck, watching your every move, making it impossible to complete your mission and do your job, much less show up for meetings. No, _you_ have total and complete freedom to be the perfect little ferret boy everyone here _knows_ you are while _I _ have a whole _group_ of suspicious Gryffindors monitoring my movements every goddamn day! Not to mention the whole of the Order of the Phoenix is getting suspicious about the fact that my scar isn't hurting and I'm not having anymore dreams of what Voldemort is doing _and_ the whole time I have to play dumb as a lamp post about _everything_ while they train me to kill the only person I have left in this world that matters to me! _And_ I have to pretend to be eager and love every second of it! Don't you _dare_ tell me to relax, Draco Malfoy!"

He was already in shock by the time the double doors burst open and a _very _angry, rageful, and…_powerful_ Harry Potter began grumbling, pulling at his hair, and pacing like a locked rageful lion in a cage. The boy was losing his mind, much like at the end of fifth year when he destroyed Dumbledore's office. He was grateful he had not been there. He may not have been able to prevent said heir of Gryffindor from blowing up the entire room and all incompetents in it. However, the downside to his lack of comforting was that he had never dealt with the boy when he was this dangerous before. The boy usually had masterful control of his emotions, for all he goaded him. And though he surely became angry, he refused to let it completely control him. But this...

Lights were flickering on and off in the room, the very walls were shaking heavily and the fire in the fireplace was whooshing violently through the chimney, scorching it. As for the boy…he was shaking. Blinding white power was rolling off him in waves, his hair was flying about him and his green eyes were glowing with unrestrained magic. His aura was so bright, so hot, it was about to set the whole room on fire.

"Harry."

"I _swear to Merlin_ if someone else tells me to relax one more time I'll CUT OFF THEIR HEAD!" He hit the wall and it shuddered under the force of his rage.

And than…he froze. He was just as frozen as the death eaters themselves in fact. And everyone expected for the boy to be killed or cursed. But than, all at once, everything seemed to stop. The fireplace when back to normal, the walls stopped shaking, the wind died down, and his aura retreated back into his body. But his whole body was still shaking and he looked weak, tears flowing down his face. He breathed heavily, wiping at his face with his sleeve, trying to bring himself under control and failing miserably.

He couldn't see the boy's face, but when he spoke, he was clearly ashamed and apologetic. It didn't seem as though he was begging for mercy or understanding or forgiveness even. His response was as real as it was plain and genuine.

"I'm sorry. That sounded bad. I-I wasn't threatening you. I don't even remember how I got here or what's been happening for the last five hours. I-" And than his voice failed, his body still shaking as he try to gain a foothold on his turbulent powerful emotions.

To their extreme immense surprise, the dark lord didn't seem angry. He didn't even seem surprised. He was clearly used to dealing with a half insane Harry Potter.

"Come here, Harry."

"No, I don't want to embar...I mean I don't know if they…if you want..."

"Nonsense. Come."

Nagini curled herself around the boy and bumped her nose into his cheek repeatedly, flicking her tongue at the tears. Her whole body wrapped around him alternately relaxing and squeezing her coils. Clearly she was offering him comfort. His returning laugh and smile though, was small and hollow.

"Thank you, Nagini." He pet her head and proceeded to very gently return the embrace. Never had they seen the dark lords familiar so comfortable with anyone besides the dark lord. And never was she this affectionate with anyone. She slid down and he took shaky steps, stopping and shaking at the side of their lord. But he knew it was not from fear that Harry Potter shook. The boy was in pain and when Voldemort took his hand pull pulled him into his lap, the inner circle knew at once they were privileged with witnessing something they never would have seen had they been any lower than the rank they were.

Of course, there were times where the dark lord had played the father figure and comforted his death eaters after particularly hard life trials, pulling them a little closer into the fold. But it was never like this. He was never this soft, this emotional. He had never once truly understood another's pain, merely giving advice and rarely, an awkward embrace. But that was not the way he was clearly showing to the emerald eyed child on his lap.

He pulled the out of control boy even deeper into his arms and held him whilst he wept, taking his glasses and placing them on the table beside him. Nagini lay across them both, hissing softly, clearly trying to comfort. Their lord was hissing as well but after thirty minutes, when the crying had still not abated and had only grown more painful, the dark lord took a long look at the boy.

"Never have I seen you in such a state agony. Not since…" And than he paled, his face going white and tighter than normal. Of course, being a Professor, he knew exactly what had happened and he knew it would send the boy into quite a state. The fact that he was seeking the dark lord's comfort though, was surprising.

Speaking of the man, he summoned a potion and it flew into his outstretched hand immediately. However tight and tense he was, his voice was deceptively soft. Not dangerous, not the calm before the storm, not deadly. Simply…understanding. "Drink, Harry." Harry downed it in one gulp, almost desperately and several death eaters were shocked at the strength of the calming potion Harry was taking, at the way Harry actually listened, at the way he didn't ask questions. He simply acted. He trusted the dark lord and because of that trust, he calmed immediately.

The dark lords fingers gently caressed his tear stained face and settled in his hair. He transfigured the fancy armchair into an even fancier settee. He settled the boy into his lap and told him to focus on his breathing, probably to keep himself from hyperventilating. Within five minutes, Harry's eyes were dull and empty. He seemed almost deceptively calm. The dark lord's voice was hard when he spoke again.

"Report Draco."

He bowed. "My Lord, I've befriended and followed him as requested. He has said nothing suspicious or untoward in the past five hours, as I have not left his side for even a moment. I believe he is in shock, as his best friend, Ron Weasley, committed suicide today."

A shiver wracked his body. Even through the potion, it caused him pain. Harry's voice spoke of bitter irony. "Hatred knows no bounds, huh? The fates hated him. He was poor, I'm rich. I'm famous, he wasn't. He always wanted to be me but…I would give away all my money, all the fame…hell, I'd _let_ him be me if I could have him back. For so long, _I_ wanted to be _him_. He had parents that loved him, brothers, sisters, family pets, reunions, sit down dinners. When he did lose control of his magic, even a little, his parents never blamed him, never struck him, never beat him, never starved him. He wasn't a freak like me. He was normal. I would have given anything to be normal."

The dark lord pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are not a freak."

"I speak to snakes, I apparated onto the top of a roof when I was eight, and I can blow things up without magic. I'm completely out of control and I'm half insane and you think I'm not a freak?"

"I think you are out of control because you are grieving, which is a perfectly natural process. He was your…friend. From what I understand, you spent your summers with him, indulged him, he hardly ever left your side and he accompanied you on all of your adventures. You also shared many life and death situations together. That clearly creates close ties, I suppose as if he were your family. Therefore, you are grieving for your lost brother, you are not half insane. As for your magic creating spontaneous combustions of light, this is your inheritance. It is from Godrick Gryffindor himself. It is something no one else has and should be considered an honor if you have it. But more to the point, I also apparated onto the roof of my residence when I was at the exact same age you were than with no knowledge of how I came to be there. And of course, it is widely known that I also speak to snakes. Do you consider me a...freak, Harry?"

"What? How could you even _think_ that?! No! Never! Your special, your powerful, your fucking _beautiful _and anyone who calls you a freak should be bathed in a vat of boiling acid!" He was so impassioned, so enflamed, so defensive of the dark lord. He stared deeply and directly into the dark lord's eyes, completely unafraid. And than, he remembered the presence of other death eaters and a red tinge spread across his cheeks before he hid his face, burrowing into the dark lords chest. The elder gave a small indulgent laugh.

"Thank you for your kind words, Harry. But you forget, we are alike in many ways. You even look much as I did when I was your age."

"You were more graceful."

"That is beside the point. While all those things I may be, we are alike enough that you should consider yourself in the same way you consider me. You are the heir of a founder of Hogwarts, as I am. That makes you rare, special, powerful, aesthetically pleasing, and anyone who calls you a freak should…how did you put it? Be bathed in a vat of boiling acid." He smirked. "Who would have thought you would have such a dark side?"

"I stand up for my friends and…you."

"You wouldn't be a Gryffindor if you didn't."

Harry gave a true smile for the first time that night and looked into the serpentine eyes. "The hat almost put me in Slytherin you know."

"And you rejected it why?"

"I didn't want to be in the same house with Draco. He was being a prat."

"I see."

"You know, I said I would have wanted to be him. But I don't want that anymore. If I were normal, I wouldn't have you. It's just…for as long as I've been alive, I've gotten all sorts of attention, both good and bad. People either love me and want to adopt me and give me free stuff or they want to hate me, rip everything away from me, torture me, and kill me."

Sharp angry hisses from both their lord and Nagini drew their attention. "I would _not_ allow that to happen. You are _mine_."

Harry smirked. "I know. That's why I'm here. Just so you know, that goes both ways. I would sacrifice myself for you in an instant."

"Banish the thought of ever having to."

He smiled. "I would though."

"And I would raise you from the dead and kill you myself for being a foolish Gryffindor."

"Than you'd finally be able to show me what a great necromancer you are, _my lord._" He bat his eyes flirtatiously and Voldemort sniffed almost delicately and looked at him with a fond expression.

"Do cease teasing me and sleep."

"Can't. Insomnia. I haven't slept in three months."

The red eyes blinked in shock and than he smirked. "Three months?"

"August thirty-first actually. You know I've never slept well. Even when I'm not having nightmares and I just can't lay still for that long."

"Indeed." He brought Harry's head down to his lap. "Sleep than whilst I conduct my meeting."

"If you insist." And within minutes, the boy was asleep and the death eaters were reporting.

The voice changed from soft to deadly in an instant. "You will of course, swear on your magic that what you have seen will not leave this room. You will not show anyone this memory, you will not speak of this to anyone, and your magic will turn against you should anyone find out from you that Harry Potter is my consort."

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Everyone took the oath and for once, Severus had been happy to. After all, this was _not_ something he wanted to tell Albus. And he would do anything in order to protect Lily's son. But the feeling was bittersweet and it was on this that he continued to brood.

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**A/N: I know most of you must be thinking that Voldemort is out of character here but would he not be more open with his inner circle and treat them like they are special to keep them loyal to him? And of course, he is so sure of himself and his death eaters loyalty that he would feel no qualms about being a little more open with Harry and than commanding his death eaters on pain of death that he would kill them all if they said a word about any of it. And they would obey him out of fear. So yeah. As for the thing about rare awkward hugs, watch the ending of the seventh Harry Potter movie. LOL!**


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